The Mansion of Cats
by Another Sindar
Summary: Humorous one shots featuring the Mansion of Cats, where Thranduil ruled as King.
1. In Want of Sun

_**Tenacity or Foolishness?**_

* * *

_Jump_.

The cat braced against the wooden floor and hopped up the wall. It fell short of the desired height and landed, on its feet, back on the floor.

_Jump_.

The cat braced against the wooden floor with its claws extended. It bounced vertically upward. Once it made contact with the wall, it sank its claws deep into the wallpaper.

Except… the grip wasn't secure, and the cat was too heavy.

Gravity did the rest.

With an extended screech, the cat was back where it started, with ten deep gouges on the previously pristine wallpaper.

_Jump_.

The cat walked back a few steps, eyed the wall, then took another few steps back, until it found the perfect spot. It semi-crouched, legs muscles bunching, and took off running straight toward the wall. At two cat-lengths from the wall, it used the inertia running had produced and propelled itself into the air

Yes! Its eyes cleared the wall, managing to glimpse paradise - a sunny ledge, wide, padded, and as close to the sun as possible in this huge mansion, the perfect place to observe the outside world and have a lovely snooze. And…

Even as its paws scrambled for purchase, it fell, again. The bland cream wallpaper its last view as it fell.

_Jump_.

Regrouping was important after numerous failures. The cat looked around, spotting a low side table near the much craved ledge.

It scaled the table with one mighty leap, narrowly avoiding a headlong collision with an elegantly sculpted porcelain vase. At its elevated height, the ledge seemed so close now, that in its excitement, the cat skidded on the polished surface of the table as it sprung.

Sprawling, the cat's body went spinning on the table. Its hind legs made contact with the vase, sending it flying into the air.

**CRASH**.

The cat's horrified gaze beheld the expensive vase smashing against the floor and bursting into thousands tiny, sharp shards. Still sliding and heading straight toward a trap of its own making, the cat floundered desperately, before the table flung it, head over heels into the air.

The cat landed in a haphazard heap on the floor, barely avoiding impalement on a particularly large shard.

The cat climbed back to its feet. With a scornful sneeze, the cat shook out its matted fur and picked daintily around the razor-sharp, pointed aftermaths of its clumsiness.

_Jump_.

The cat was now eyeing the armchair located by the ledge. Though the chair was some distance away from the window, the woolen material of the armchair would provide enough traction for a good long leap.

Mind made up, the cat climbed up the armchair and positioned itself on the backrest. It carefully gauged the distance between the armchair and the ledge. Crawling to the edge of the armchair, it took a moment to gather itself.

Then, with eyes firmly on its target, the cat crouched and leaped.

It soared in the air...

And hooked its front claws into the leather padding on the ledge with only inches to spare.

But the cat had a strong grip, and a solid determination. With a mighty heave, it dragged its lower body onto the ledge.

All four paws on solid surface, the cat gave a great sigh of relief, and then, of awe, as it took in the sweeping view from the window ledge.

It only got a glimpse, however, because the next instant, a long powerful feline tail has promptly swept it off the coveted ledge.

The King of the Mansion, His Majesty, Thranduil, lifted his head from his padded perch, blinked at the bright sunlight, and yawned. The mayhem caused by the cat had interrupted his morning doze. He got to his feet, stretched languorously, and gave a luxurious shudder that fluffed his lush and beautiful fur. Then he settled down, sparing the downed cat a bored glance over the ledge, and rearranged his limbs for another light doze, his tail flickering in enjoyment of the warm sunlight.


	2. Inspection

Waiting, the cat decided, was the worst thing ever.

It had sat before the large carved mahogany doors for the better part of an hour. Beautiful, the designs on the door might be. They, still, have gotten tiresome.

Behind those doors, was the entity who summoned the cat. And it seemed, Thranduil, King of the Mansion, was keeping it waiting.

The cat sighed, for the millionth time.

It would have had a swell time downstairs, celebrating its much-look-forwarded anniversary.

Yes, today marked the two weeks anniversary of the cat's arrival to the Mansion.

Two weeks since a wary cat stepped out of its transport and set foot on the Mansion grounds. Two weeks since it was shocked motionless in the front lobby, hardly believing the sheer extravagance of the decorations. Two weeks since it hesitated to place its paw on a rich intrinsic Persian rug in fear of dirtying it. Two weeks since it found itself hopelessly lost in the twist and turns of the Mansion, until it happened upon a servant. Two weeks since…

Ah, so many fond memories.

But today, also, would be the day the King of the Mansion officially greet the cat, and decide whether its temporary living arrangement in the Mansion would become permanent.

Naturally, the cat was nervous. The luxurious lifestyle had grown on it considerably during its stay. The cat would loathe to leave the Mansion back to what it now perceived as 'a humble lifestyle.'

But to be allowed to remain, the cat must pass the King's inspection, which, it now seemed, was no easy thing to accomplish.

Failure was not an option. The cat reminded itself.

If there was one thing good about this macabre affair, it was the acquaintances the cat had managed to make for this interview. Most of the residents of the Mansion seemed quite amiable, and sympathetic to the cat's plight. Many had given it tips and advices, a big list of what-to-dos and what-not-to-dos.

* * *

Be respectful. That's the first advice the cat got.

That was an easy counsel to follow, it had thought, after all, strange cats always greet each other respectfully. Except, it's becoming incredibly hard to be respectful to a pair of closed doors.

With an irritated sniff, the cat stood to shake out its now stiff muscles. Muscle mobility reinstated, it sat back on its warmed sitting spot, hind legs folded under and tail covering forepaws.

How much longer would it have to wait?

* * *

Acknowledge the King's authority. That's the second advice.

The cat had a moment of dilemma then, as it was unaccustomed to being the subject, to recognize another's dominance, to bend the knee. Should one choose to be ruled in luxury, or be ruler in impoverishment?

Fortunately, the dilemma ended soon, when a servant presented warm milk and biscuits on gold plates as afternoon snack.

Show deference to the King, but never cower.

Bilbo, the Singapura, had specified, "King, he might be. But Thranduil hates mindless bootlickers."

The cat was quite glad of Bilbo's words. It did, after all, detest being the fawning, obsequious, or subservient subject.

* * *

A crash sounded somewhere down the hallway. The cat was up and turned from its seated position in an instant, ears straining to catch a sound of mischief. It was just about to leave and investigate when Gandalf's warning echoed, "Never, ever, let your curiosity overcome common sense."

Torn between curiosity and the ominous warning, the cat hesitated. Until, a movement in its peripheral alerted the cat of new developments.

During its distraction, the doors leading to the King's study had opened, noiselessly, without the slightest whine of hinges. And now, as the cat looked beyond the doors, into the room it had been waiting to be admitted, it couldn't help but gave a soft gasp.

The room was splendidly decorated, opulent beyond imagination. Sunlight streamed through large floor-to-ceiling windows, leaving no corner untouched. Rich carpets and rugs littered the floor while gold and silver decorations intensified the glare of the bright light until its eyes watered. Soft pillows of various sizes and shapes litter the floor, the couches, and chairs. Beautifully framed paintings hang on the walls.

And amidst of all this splendor, on an enormous desk close to the windows, sat the King, facing the sun. Blinding light highlighted the gold in his puffed-up coat, illuminating him so that he seemed aglow around the edges.

Slowly, regally, he stood from his high throne and turned, pale eyes settling on the minuscule creature on the floor. Long and unblinking, the King stared, until the cat was tempted to turn tail and scuttle, advices or not.

An eternity later, the King gave the cat his back and returned to his seat.

A wave of a furry tail, his dismissal.


End file.
